Difference
by E.E94
Summary: Lance Sweets had always been different,he just can't seem to be accepted anywhere,not even at the Jeffersonian. But when a case hits close to his heart the Squints and Booth find out more than they ever thought possible.Before Mayhem on the Cross.
1. The man on the screen

Hi all, Thanks for clicking,Ok this story plot isnt very original but I had an impulse and well you know how it is, um pre-warnings really, the spelling and grammer is probably terrible and any forensic facts will probably all be from google during this fic, it I get anything wrong be free to call me up on it. Also Updates might take a while to get up, I'm in the middle of exams.

Disclaimer: I dont own Bones, If I did John Francis Daily would be in more scenes.

By the way readers if I dissapear halfway through this and cannot complete it, its because my partner from TeamBartowski has killed me for not helping with Chuck fanfics to go on a Bones kick. Only joking, she wouldnt kill me... just maim me a littte

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Lance Sweets had always been different.

Different to other kids, different to other teenagers, and now –despite what Agent Booth thought- different to other adults.

Critically speaking he knows why he's different. His abusive childhood, adolescent depression, high intelligence and his unnerving ability to tell almost anything about anyone just by a mere glance practically made him the perfect poster child for Different.

However, it's hard to be critical when you're alone, hurt and frankly frustrated because of those differences.

When he had been accepted by the FBI as a psychologist- one of the youngest ever- he had been excited, hoping the work would dull the pain left behind after the death of his parents. Then he was assigned to Them. Agent Seeley Booth and Dr Temperance Brennan. He had expected a small amount of distrust and hazing from the pair, after looking at the file he recognised that they would see any risk to their partnership a threat, but he had thought that at least they would acknowledge his credentials and treat him with respect. Apparently, that was not the case. After many remarks about his age and a dismissal of his entire profession, he was almost as eager for them to leave as they were. Nevertheless, he tried to remain professional and do what he had been trained to do.

Then, unexpectedly, they had started to grow on him, maybe because he was searching for someone to replace his parents but slowly they became more than patients. He started to profile for them, they started to respect him even helping him after April broke up with him and somewhere he was sucked into the weird world of the Jeffersonian.

For the first time in his life, he had almost had friends. At school, he had been the freaky little kid that knew too much and that sort of continued in his adult life, even his romantic interests were wary of him and most ended when they saw his scars. But in the Jeffersonian he was almost normal. Still he was not truly one of them and at times, he was only really tolerated at best, but still he had some hope that he was being slowly accepted.

That went out the window when Zack was discovered to be Gormogons assistant. Angry and upset, they closed ranks and he was the outsider once more. In truth, Lance was hurt too. Out of everyone at the lab, he felt the strongest connection to Zack, despite never really spending that much time with him. They had a lot in common, Zack was young, brilliant and out of touch with the rest of society. But with one act of betrayal, Lance was cast out of the group he had worked so hard to enter. Brennan and Booth only spoke with him when they had to and even then, all the barbs and dismissals were back. They didn't even show remorse for wrongly imprisoning him. Part of him knew that they wished they hadn't wrongly imprisoned , they wished they had _rightly _imprisoned him, they wished that he had done it, not Zack.

And that really hurt like hell.

In one of their now considerably frostier sessions he had tried to draw on their feelings over what Zack had done, to try and get it out in the open, he had tried to tell them that he was hurt too by Zacks actions, that he knew how hurt they were. Dr Brennan just looked at him icily but Agent Booth snapped at him. Told him that he was just a little kid, that the worst thing that had happened to him was losing at Call of Duty and that he should stay the hell out of that subject.

It had been a week since then and Lance hadn't seen them, he had been sent to the Jeffersonian to assist in some case and he wasn't looking forward to working with the people who had made it very clear that they hated him. He didn't really know why he was needed there, they didn't have any suspects, hell they didn't even have the identity yet. However, he went anyway because it was his job and at that point, it was all he had left.

When he walked into the lab he instantly felt like he walk straight out again. They had been expecting him but that didn't stop Hodgins glaring at him or Dr Brennans ignoring him while Dr Saroyan curtly explained the facts of the case. She didn't want him there either.

Apparently the victim was stabbed them pushed down storm drain. No points for creativity for this killer was just about to leave when Angela arrived with the facial reconstruction. He was always slightly amazed at how she could do amazement dies in his stomach when he sees the face on the screen.

A bitter blazing leaks through his veins, burning and freezing at the same time.

The others were checking for a match on the identity of the man, but Lance already knew him and really wished he did not.

The mans name was Ian Thomas. He was a convicted felon, prosecuted 17 years previously for a case of abusing his foster son.

As he stared from the screen to the corpse on the table in growing horror his scars began to burn, as though they knew they were near to their maker2.

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Dun, Dun, dun, oh poor Sweets.

Ok, Good, bad? please review and let me know what you think. With every review my sanity returns slightly.

1. And apparantly neither does this writer

2. Ok worst chapter ending line ever, but its late and I'm tired


	2. The pain in the folder

Hi all, me again. yeah this is chapter two.

Thanks go to D-No who didnt kill me but has instead beta'd this. thanks dude.

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Ian Thomas hadn't been his first foster father, in fact he had been Lance's third. It had been his fifth placement overall and he had spent just over eighteen months with Thomas. Having been in the social system his entire life, he had known to be weary of his foster parents, when he was three his foster mother had left him at home alone for four days, he had been removed soon after that. So yeah, Lance knew that foster parents could be bad but there was something different about Thomas …and not in a good way. Of course, his social worker had thought he was being shy when he had hidden his small four and a half year old frame behind her legs, but no the cold look in that mans eyes had frightened him.

He couldn't remember the year and a half he had spent with Thomas. But then again what was there to remember? The screams that no one would hear? The sharp pain of a fist against his small body? Sharp pains that were soon dulled with frequency. That all ended with the whip.

He did remember waking up in the hospital with a new teary-eyed social worker standing over him, telling him that she was so sorry and that he wouldn't hurt anymore. Lance didn't believe her but he nodded anyway. She was somewhat true to her word though; after he was released, Lance was put into the care of the Sweets, the elderly couple that would become his parents. DNA be damned.

But even after all that time one thing was burned into his head.

Ian Thomas's face still haunted his dreams, his nightmares.

Now that face was on a screen, in front of him and to everyone else in the room it was the face of a victim but to Lance it was the face of a monster.

He couldn't work on this case, for one he himself would be suspect, and two it was just too painful. After all, how could you profile a possible killer when you support their actions, terrible as they may be?

He couldn't be there standing in the lab, barely three feet from the corpse of the man who had hurt him, tortured him, surrounded by people who openly disliked him. He couldn't be there. So he ran.

What's his problem?" Booth asked, entering the lab just as the young psychologist ran out.

"I dunno, but he looked kind of pale. maybe someone should see if he's okay." Angela suggested.

Normally she wouldn't have spared him a second thought but the look on his face was … haunted, somehow. She knew they had been kind of harsh to Sweets lately but they were just dealing with the whole Zack thing and he was a close target.

"Nah, he's probably forgot to pick up his zit cream," Hodgins said smirking, turning back to his computer.

"Okay, enough about Sweets. Who's our victim?" Booth enquired, clapping his hands together. "Come on people we got a murderer to catch."

But in his mind Booth kept seeing Sweets' face as he ran past him. Angela was right, it was pale, pale and scared. Like he had seen a ghost.

.......................................................(scene change)..............................................................................

Ok, He knew he had to calm down, breath in…breath out, memories he had forgotten, that he had wanted to forget were coursing through his mind, pain, screaming, blood, striking at him from dark corners of his brain, they wouldn't stop, God they wouldn't stop, they just kept coming and coming and he couldn't breath, the walls were closing in trapping him further, he was sweating, bleeding? No just sweat, more memories, why wouldn't they stop? The very air was rancid, cruel, God he needed to breath!

That was were Agent Booth and Dr Brennan found him. Sitting at his desk in his office trying, and failing, not to fall to pieces. Neither of his two guests noticed his wounded expression and awkward breathing pattern; they just walked straight in and started doling out commands.

"Hey Sweets, we need you to run these folders over give us a clue," Booth commanded unceremoniously tossing him some folders of suspects. Lance began the panic further when he saw his name on one of them. They hadn't even glanced at these had they?

He couldn't do this,but when he had tried to tell them it was Dr Brennan who cut him off, surprisingly.

"Look, Dr Sweets, while I don't credit psychology, your input may be needed to catch a murderer and therefore you need to exercise a sense of professionalism. While I know that dealing with a child abuser is appalling but we have a duty to find his killer. I have personal experiences with the foster system so do not tell me you can not do this job."

"Yeah Sweets, just suck it up and do your job. Don't even think of trying to push this off on us because of some psychobabble, okay?" Booth chimed in.

Sweets looked from one to the other, their expressions leaving no doubts as to how serious they were. Shakily, he selected his folder out of the small pile that now cluttered his desk; he stalked around his desk, shoved it into Booth's hands, and left of the room, his shoulders hunched, barely containing his anguish. He didn't wait to hear the shocked gasps from behind him.

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Wow, angst.

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	3. The duo in turmoil

Hey people, sorry if the spelling and grammer in this is terrible, its 12:38 in the morning as I put this up. Any complaints and I will try and correct whatever the problem is,ok?

Thanks to all who have reviewed, you guys are awesome.

So, Brennan and Booth know, what do they have to think about this? find out.

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Dr Temperance Brennan prided herself on being a logical woman, she could compartmentalise and rationalise almost everything in her life. She could handle dealing with murdered corpses without even flinching because she knew she was doing what was right. She could handle people judging her, calling her a cold fish because she knew her intellect and attractive looks made up for her social ineptitude.

Yes, Dr Temperance Brennan prided herself on being a logical woman, but she did not know how to handle the new information she had just been given.

When she had been given this case, she was already perturbed, it would be one of the first since Zack, and then she had found out that the man that they were supposedly trying to get justice for was a child abuser, a child abuser who a had been in jail for abusing his six-year-old foster son. Her time in the system had been bad but…. Well in short, this case frustrated her. So when she and Booth had entered Sweets office and he told them that he couldn't work on this case, her already fraying nerves had snapped. She knows that her words had been callous and unnecessary, and looking back her actions towards Sweets lately had been much the same.

When she had first met him, she had thought Dr Sweets to be like every other psychiatrist she had ever met (Dr Wyatt excluded of course), so condescending, so sure of a science that could not be proven in her standards. So of course she had reacted remotely to him at first but then slowly he had wormed his way into the group of people she called friends. Then everything just sort of imploded, he didn't tell her about Booth's "death", then Zack became a murderer. Confused, upset and tediously guilty about falsely imprisoning him, she acted out at Sweets.

It did not help that he had become the target for everyone on the team's frustrations. Booth was gruffer, more impatient .Cam was terse. Hodgins was plainly rude and disdainful. Even Angela was cold to him.

But that folder…. That folder with his name on it, what it contained, it made her feel sick. When Sweets had revealed that he had been adopted, she had assumed (peculiar on her part) that he had been an infant. To think- No- to know that he had been the little boy that Thomas had hurt so terribly and that she had just yelled at him for not being able to take this case…well guilt didn't even cover it.

"Could he have done it?" Booths question shunted her out of her thoughts.

"What?" She knew what Booth meant but she didn't really believe what he was suggesting. In all fairness the motives where there but Sweets could never kill anyone, despite her previous distrust.

"Could Sweets have killed Thomas?" Booth said it slowly, painfully.

"No, time of death was approximately between five and seven pm last Monday. He was with us, it was the time of our last session." She said it slowly too, trying to steady her voice, trying to cover up her distress with the facts.

Hearing Booth's sigh of relief did not help.

"We have to go after him." It wasn't a question.

They left the office, letting the folder fall to the floor.

....................................................................................................................................................

Seeley Booth ignored the lights of D.C flashing past him as they headed to Sweets apartment. All he could think of was the stupid kid and the stupid case, and the stupid folder.

This could not be real. No way. No how

Sweets could not be the victim of the horrific abuse described in the folder. He was a punk kid psychologist, who had grown up on some suburban street with a mom who made him cookies and who was a little too smart for his own good and not in a "squinty" way either, I mean c'mon who has two decorates by the time their twenty-two anyway!

He was not going to get into the whole quilt trip thing about how he had treated Sweets over the last couple of weeks; there would be time for that soon.

What he couldn't get out of his head was the look on Sweets face when he slammed that damned folder. It was just….just wrong. He had seen expressions like that on trauma patients and seeing it on Sweets just didn't fit. Not at all.

Booth couldn't help but feel as though he should have noticed the state Sweets was in when the had come bursting into his office, thinking back he could easily recognise the signs of a person fighting of a panic attack. He should have known not to push Sweets, should have listened to him when he said he couldn't do this case, not just told him to "suck it up".

Seeley Booth prided himself on looking after 'his' people and he didn't know when or how but Lance Sweets had become one of 'his' people and now Sweets has hurting and it was partly his fault. He had to set this right and he was going to do whatever it took to do it, no matter what.

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Yay! Booth is doing something! and the angsty innermonologing continues....

Good?Bad? Please review!


	4. The memories in the apartment

Hi peoples, thanks for reading this far. Usualy warnings, spelling, grammer, attack of the flash back monster...

Thanks to all reviewers!

On with the chapter!

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Lance Sweets thought his apartment rather suited him. It wasn't exactly small, just sort of compact, filled with things that made it seen much more lived in than it actually was. Pictures, knick-knacks, dvds and cds, things to given to him by his parents, his family. Things that would remind him of them. It was a bit sad to cling to trinkets and memories, but they helped him cope, with their absence during stressful times. It was a nice apartment located in a nice part of the city. Not that, that helped Lance when he stepped over the threshold. He had managed to stave of tears when he was driving, not wishing to add car crash on his list of troubles, but as soon as he saw the smiling faces of himself, his mum and his dad, in a picture on the coffee table the proverbial dam broke. It wasn't a flood of raging built up emotion like in the movies. No, it was slow and silent. He just sat down on his couch and cried.

His father had once told him that it was a stupid man that thought himself too big to cry. His mother had once told him that someone who avoided life to avoid sorrow avoided joy. His parents had been smart people, smart wonderful people. They had done everything that they could, and more to make sure he had a good life and Lance felt that he was disrespecting that effort by how he was reacting to the 'Thomas' case. Thomas the year and a half of Hell before a lifetime of Heaven. So why did it hurt so much?

Maybe it was all just too much. His parents death, the stressful job, almost acceptance quickly dashed away by an act of betrayal, and now the reappearance of his childhood tormenter that apparently had the ability to traumatise him from beyond the grace. It was enough to drive anyone to despair.

Memories continued to flash through his mind, tortuously reminding him of the best and worst moments of his life.

_Three-year-old Lance rummaging for food in the trash, his foster mother past out on the couch, a bottle in her limp hand._

_Four-year-old Lance being lead away by Thomas trying not to squirm from the mans tight grip on his little hand._

_Five-year-old Lance cowering in the corner, Thomas leering over him, holding a belt._

_Six-year-old Lance, falling in to blissful emptiness, then waking up to beeps and blinding white lights._

_Six and a Half year old Lance looking up from his corner at the extended had of Diane Sweets._

_Eight-year-old Lance really laughing for the first time at his fathers antics while decorating the Christmas tree._

_Ten-year-old Lance feeling truly cared for and loved as he watches some goofy movie with his parents, all of them under one blanket and sharing a bowl of pop corn._

_Thirteen-year olds Lances awkward "Talk" with his father._

_Fourteen-year-old Lance graduating from high school, fours years early, seeing his parents practically glowing with pride._

_Sixteen-year-old Lance covered in garish make up, railing against society in an attempt to fill the black void in his stomach. Avoiding his mothers eye as he comes home. He feels guilty._

_Seventeen-year-old Lance getting his act together and accepting his first doctorate._

_Eighteen-year-old Lance trying to find his birth mother. When he does, he doesn't know why he tried to hard and calls his Real mother._

_Twenty-two-year-old Lance sitting in hospital waiting room, a doctor appears from behind some doors to nowhere. When she apologises he finds he can't breath. Less than three weeks later, he finds himself in the exact same place. This time he collapses._

_Twenty-three-year-old Lance being comforted by Dr Brennan and Agent Booth, bowling is actually quite fun. He defiantly hates fish._

_He has friends now, almost. People he can talk to over pie at the diner. People who are just as different as he is._

_Then he's hated again and Zack's a murderer._

_Then there's Thomas again leering down a him from a computer after 16 years._

A knock on his door, a call from a familiar voice, jolts him from his memories.

He knew who it was and stayed sitting. He couldn't handle **them** right now.

There was another knock, another call and Lance just hugged his knee's tighter.

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Aw Lance give them a chance...

Good? Bad? please review.


	5. The reaction in the diner

Here you are, another chapter added late at night. Usual warnings.

So how will the Squints react to the news? read and find out.

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"Sweets, c'mon Sweets open up, we need to talk kid. Please."

Booth pleaded through the door to Sweets' apartment. During the drive he had pledged to at least listen to Sweets, he had pledged to make things right.

"Yes, were sorry, Sweets, please just let us in."

Brennan was truly concerned about Sweets and had put a lot of thought into her apology. She was determined to make sure that he knew they were remorseful. However, when, after at least half an hour in front of a locked door that was obviously not about to open anytime soon, she decided that the logical thing to do was to retreat and wait until Sweets was ready to talk to them. Last time they had tried to force him into something, it had ended badly, there was no need to continue in that pattern.

"Booth," She said quietly, laying her hand on his shoulder " Lets go."

Sighing, Booth, whose hand was still raised to strike the door again, just nodded and turned, still obviously upset at their lack of progress.

The car ride to the diner was silent.

The rest of the squints were sitting at their usual table, laughing about something, they stopped as soon as they saw the looks on the duo's faces.

"Sweetie, Booth what's wrong?" Angela was the first to ask.

Booth stat down, sighing for what felt like the millionth time that day, and reluctantly told them what was in fact wrong. He knew that it wasn't his story to tell, but they would find out eventually with the case and it was better that they heard it from them, rather than a cold file like they had.

Their reactions were diverse, if not predictable. They had all gasped, appalled at what they heard. Hodgins was staring at a fixed point on his plate, snapping the rubber band on his arm. Cam looked dumbstruck, as though she was not entirely sure what she was hearing was true, she really didn't want it too be true. Angela had tears in her eyes; she was shaking her head slowly. Yes, their reactions were varied, but they were all driven by the same emotions. Guilt, pity and in part anger. Anger at how petty and immature their actions had been towards Sweets lately. They were so caught up in their own pain they took it out on him and that wasn't fair.

Surprisingly Hodgins spoke up first.

"So what are we going to do? I mean we have to do something" He was feeling acutely guilty; out of all of them, he had probably the most unpleasant to Sweets. Hell, he was barely pleasant to him before the whole Zack thing, but then that happened and Hodgins had just become a swirling mass of bitterness. His best friend was in a Looney bin and some snot nose kid wanted him to talk about his feelings! No way!

Now, however he saw that he was being unfair, Sweets had lost a friend too, no actually he had lost a lot of friends and it wasn't right.

"We can't do anything now" Brennan replied solemnly " We have to let him come to us, we can't force him into anything."

"But we have to do something," Angela spoke out; she was still struggling to hold back her tears. " He's in pain and he's our friend!"

There was a charged pause then Cam spoke quietly.

"No, their right, we can't force him in to anything, all we can do is hope that he knows he can trust us and that he will talk to us when he's ready."

"Yeah, but does he know that he can trust us?" They all turned to Booth, their eyes widening at his words.

"We have to do something." Hodgins repeated.

They were silent, all thinking the same thing.

How do you help a psychologist in mental pain?

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And now they know. Yay, massive guilt trips all round!

Good? Bad? please review


	6. The words in a dream

Sorry people, I know I have updated in ages (as D-no has reminded me ALOT), but Ive had exams and a severe case of writers chapter is quite sorry.

Anyway here it is.

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They all spent a long time in the diner, discussing what they were going to do about Sweets. It was hard for them to face the fact that he obviously didn't want their help. Of course, they all agreed that that was their own fault. However, as much as he didn't want help, was just as obvious that he needed it. After a few hours and numerous cups of coffee, they decided that when they had a chance they would each apologise for their actions towards him, but not directly mention Thomas or the case. They would wait until Sweets felt comfortable enough to discus it. It wasn't the best plan, but it was the only one they had. Still they still had one problem…

"Um, guys, what are we going to do with the case?" Angela asked tentatively.

Their eyes shone with a sudden realisation, they all sighed in unison. Again.

"This is bad." Hodgins said, grossly understating the situation.

"We can't just drop the case," Stated Cam, the cop in her calling out, despite the nature of the work. "The bastard may have deserved everything he got, but it's still our duty to catch his killer."

Booth nodded slowly, but he still looked mutinous. He always took it personally when something happened to his people, and even though was only a six at the time; Thomas had hurt one of his people. There had been pictures in that folder. Pictures of a tiny six year old, with scars similar to those he had seen only on torture victims. He was just expected to act as if this was a normal case, not likely!

"There is nothing we can do," whispered Brennan, she had not liked dealing with the Thomas case before, but now… well, as cheesy as it sounded, now it was personal.

"Well this just sucks."

In only a few words Angela summed up every feeling in the room.

…...

_"**Dad?" The word felt weird on his young lips, he had only started saying it a few months ago, but it was slowly getting easier.**_

**_James Sweets looked up from his newspaper to see his seven year old son (It still gave him a thrill when he thought that. He had a son!) staring up at him from up at him, a question evident in his big brown eyes._**

**_"Yeah, Lance, what's up?" He waited patiently for Lance to respond._**

**_"Dad, can I ask you a question?" The query is timid and Lance looks away quickly, because old habits are hard to break._**

**_James smiled encouragingly; he knew it took a lot on Lances part to even ask if he could ask a question. So he just smiled and replied in a calm voice._**

**_"Of course."_**

**_"What's normal?_**

**_Ok, James was not expecting that._**

**_"What'd you mean, sport?"_**

**_Lance just kept his eyes fixed firmly on the floor._**

**_"Lance?" James was becoming concerned._**

**_"The other kids called me weird, they said I wasn't normal" Lance said, his voice small, after a short pause "so I was wondering, what is normal?"_**

**_James was shocked, that was an awfully deep question for a seven year old, he'd known that his son (!) was very sensitive and highly intelligent, but this was different. Wisely, he decided not to go into the semantics of 'normality' and chose to address the reason Lance was asking the question in the first place._**

**_He opened his mouth to reassure his son but the only thing that came out was a slow mechanical beeping noise._**

**_It became louder and louder with every second._**

Suddenly, twenty-three year old Lance Sweets woke with a shock. He had been dreaming. Flopping back into his bed, he sighed in resignation.

He remembered that day. He remembered asking that question. But he did not remember what is dad had said.

Why couldn't he remember?

Somehow, in all of this chaos, he needed to remember those words. It was as if all his problems would just melt away if he could just remember those words.

He searched his mind for a few moments but had no success.

Lance knew he would have to stop stalling, he knew he would have to face the case eventually. He would have to face Brennan and Booth, they had probably told everyone at the lab already, and he couldn't hide from them forever.

Nodding to himself, he decided to just up and get it over with. He was an adult after all, he could handle it.

However, a small treacherous part of his mind didn't seem to agree.

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